Who Says You Can't Go Home?
by Cati-dono
Summary: Sequel to my Demon!Dean fic "360 Years" which you really, really need to read first if you haven't As you might be able to guess, Dean isn't done tormenting his brother just yet, not as long as Sam's still breathing... OKAY, I know I rated this T, but there may be M parts of gore and violence, just as a warning.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** Just so you all know, there were never plans for a sequel. But you guys are all just so encouraging; I couldn't help but force my brain back into overdrive! Hope it lives up to your expectations…

PS props to liketheriflewinchester 's tumblr for the cover pic... I may have lovingly commandeered it from their blog...

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_Sam struggled against the demon, fighting uselessly as the knife scythed down, towards Bobby._

_"Stop it, please!" He cried, but it was no use. A final spurt of warm blood washed over his fingers as he lifted the bloody organ from the old man's chest._

_"Oh Sammy, I did stop. That was all you." Sam looked up in horror to see his brother standing across the room from him, grinning, his eyes deep black pools of hate._

_"No," Sam whispered, looking down. Bobby's open eyes stared accusingly at him. Suddenly the hunter sucked in a breath, sitting up in the table and raising a finger to point accusingly at Sam._

_"You did this, boy. I begged you to stop but you just kept going. Why did you do this to me Sam?" Bobby's chest hung open and empty, like a grisly piñata that had served its purpose. Sam backed away, knife and heart dropping from nerveless fingers._

_"Bobby, it wasn't me, I swear, he made me-"_

_"Whose hands are covered in blood, little brother?" Dean asked, holding out his spotless fingers for inspection. "Not mine." Sam could feel the sticky warmth between his fingers, caked under his nails, smeared across his skin. The smell was suffocating, and he vomited. Dean just stood and laughed. It was not the rich, warm chuckle he had possessed in life, but something far worse, twisted and evil._

_Suddenly Sam's feet slid out from under him, and he splashed down into a pool of blood. He called for help, but there was no one to help him. As Sam slipped under the red liquid, he saw the demon across the room wink at him before taking an enormous bite out of Bobby's heart._

Sam sat up with a shout, Dean's laughter still echoing in his head. A light flicked on in the hallway, and a moment later Ellen walked into the room. Sam drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees, trying to get his breathing under control. He had been staying with the two hunters for a little more than a week, after cleaning up Bobby's as well as he could and fleeing. There had not been a single night since when he didn't wake up screaming on his cot in the living room.

He kept his head down, feeling the bed shift as Ellen lowered herself to sit beside him. Without asking, she put an arm around his shoulders and Sam leaned into her, seeking comfort. A single tear dripped from his eye, splashing onto Ellen's chest and soaking into her cotton nightdress. More followed quickly, and Sam cried silently as Ellen held him and rocked him, whispering nonsense to comfort him like a mother would her child. Jo peeked into the room, but Ellen shook her head and the girl snuck out again, closing the door behind her.

"Shhh, now, it'll be alright," she whispered, stroking his hair soothingly. "Calm down Sam, it was just a dream." Eventually, he stopped crying, and Ellen held him for another few moments before letting go. When he looked up at her, his mask was back, clamping down on all of his emotions. He inched away from her, rubbing his face to dispel any lingering tear tracks.

"Sorry," Sam muttered. "I'm fine, really, go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

Ellen hesitated, watching him with concern. "Sam, I don't… maybe you should talk about what happened? It might help you cope." When he had arrived, all Sam had told Ellen was that there had been a hunt that went wrong and a demon had escaped, possessed Sam, killed Bobby and then vanished.

Ellen wasn't stupid- she knew there must be more to the story- but at the time, when he had appeared on her doorstep bloody and frantic, she hadn't questioned him. Nor had she argued when he begged her to replace his tattoo immediately. She had immediately gotten her tattoo gun and inked the symbol over his right collarbone while the left was still oozing blood sluggishly. Only after the tattoo was in place had Sam even marginally relaxed. Eventually, she had gotten him cleaned up and into the makeshift bed that she and Jo sometimes used for visiting hunters.

That had been a week ago, and his nightmares weren't getting any better. Ellen knew Sam, and she knew that whatever had happened went a lot deeper than some random demon attack, even if it had killed Bobby. It made Ellen's heart ache to admit it, but the death of someone he loved had never been enough to break him down in the past, and she couldn't understand why it was now.

A thought occurred to her, and she asked quietly, "Sam, does this have something to do with your brother?" She hadn't spoken of Dean since Sam had called three years ago to tell her he was dead. Now she watched as Sam's head snapped up, eyes wide and full of pain.

"Wh- how did you know?" Sam stuttered.

Ellen sighed. _Because he's the only person in the whole world who's ever gotten to you like this_, she thought. All she said was "Lucky guess. You mind telling me what happened? The whole story?"

Sam took a few deep breaths, glancing around. "Is Jo here?" When Ellen shook her head, he nodded, as if coming to a decision. "Good. She doesn't need to hear this. Neither do you, are you sure-"

Ellen covered his hand with her own. "Sam, you just cried yourself out on my shoulder for the fourth night this week. I'm worried about you, and I want you to tell me what happened." Sam held her eyes for a moment, then looked away, speaking quickly as if the words were too painful.

"It started when Bobby and I went to investigate a string of disappearances in this town in Iowa…"

Ellen listened without comment, afraid that if she interrupted Sam would lose the little bit of courage he's found and never tell her the truth about what had happened. However, when he got to the part about Dean escaping and possessing him, she couldn't help but break in.

"Sam, are you sure it was him? Maybe it was one of them just pretending-"

Sam shook his head slowly, a dead look creeping into his gaze as he remembered. "I'm sure Ellen. Being possessed… it's the worst and most intimate connection between a human soul and whatever substitute for one that demons have. I could feel it- him- inside my head, and he wasn't pretending. It really was Dean."

A very long silence stretched between them, neither willing to break it. Finally, Sam muttered, "and the rest of what I told you is true. He tore off my tattoo, possessed me, and-" Sam's throat closed up, and he struggled to speak around the sob rising in his throat. "Tortured and killed Bobby. And I couldn't do a damn thing. Bobby was more a father to me than my dad ever was, and all I could do was watch as that thing used me, used my hands, to-" Sam broke down in tears again, and once more Ellen pulled him to her, rocking him softly and humming soothingly.

Tears streaked down her own face, tears for Bobby who was dead, and Sam who had been forced to do something so awful, and tears for Dean and whatever had happened to him since his deal. Neither of them heard the quiet sounds of a third person crying, as Jo backed away from the door where she'd been listening and ran to her room.

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**PS:** short-ish chapter, I know, just getting the feel for this. I've already got a few plot ideas that I've written pieces of, but any suggestions, let me know and I will see if they can be wrestled into the story somehow. Thanks for all your support, I don't have words for how touched I am that you like my crap! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wow, sorry this took so long. Also, I just re-read the last chapter and it was sub-par for my usual work, sorry. This is also kind of bad, but I feel like a terrible person for not updating in like a month. Hopefully this one is at least better written...

Um, just FYI this gets a little intense but nothing actually graphic. Barely. You shall see. Love you thank you for your scrumptious reviews of life! (And remember, you requested this!)

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The next morning, breakfast was very quiet, each hunter lost in their own thoughts. Jo seemed especially out of it, stumbling into Sam by accident as she took her plate from the table and dropping her silverware. With a muttered apology she cleaned up the mess and disappeared to her room.

Sam and Ellen sat in silence, neither entirely sure what to do. Sam felt exposed, as though telling Ellen the whole story had peeled the scab off an old wound. His thoughts kept drifting back to his dream, to Dean's haunting voice telling him _My hands are clean little brother_. Ellen remained silent too, studying Sam's tired face and wondering how to help him, if she even could. She had never even heard of a situation like this in all her years of hunting. The two of them sat across the table from each other for nearly an hour, neither quite daring to meet the other's eyes, waiting for something to break the silence. Neither was prepared when it did.

A muffled thump and a scream echoed down the hall from Jo's room, startling the two adults out of their thoughts. Grabbing their weapons, which were always kept close at hand, they charged down the passage. Kicking in the door, Sam saw a tall, lean man with light hair and piercing blue eyes standing behind Jo, a switchblade pressed to her neck. He froze, Ellen behind him, not wanting to startle the man and get Jo killed.

The man holding Jo hostage spoke, voice young and strong. "Long time no see! Sam," he nodded to the younger hunter, then the older. "Ellen, good to see you. Missed me?" Sam's blood ran cold, and he fought the sudden urge to vomit. The voice was different, but the tone and the teasing cruelty could only belong to one thing.

"Dammit, I thought you were dragged back to Hell!" Sam yelled, furious but unable to do anything with Jo held hostage. Behind him, Ellen gasped. The demon only smiled delightedly, eyes clouding over black.

"Well done Sammy! Much quicker on the uptake this time. And I've even got a new look!" The demon tilted his head down at himself. "His name was Adam. Did you know that we're related?" Mock outrage filled his voice. "Dad went off and had a son with someone else, and didn't even bother to let us know, can you believe it? And this guy never even had to deal with hunting, with all the crap that Dad put us through. Doesn't that just piss. You. Off?" With each word Dean slid the knife a little further along Jo's neck, a thin trail of blood leaking from beneath the blade.

Jo stayed silent, but Sam could see her hands shaking with fear. Her eyes were wide and pleading, and when she swallowed the pale skin of her throat scraped up and down against the blade. Sam was shaking too, with barely controlled rage and fear. "Let her go," he demanded. "Jo and Ellen have nothing to do with this!"

"On the contrary," Dean replied, "I think they do. You ran to them after I left, you care about them. That alone is plenty of reason for them to be involved." Jo began to struggle, but Dean pressed the knife into her throat harder, twisting one of the girl's arms up behind her back until she gasped in pain.

"Now now," he whispered in her ear, nuzzling his nose into her hair. "Don't make me kill you early Jo, I have such fun things planned for us!" Sam growled and was about to step forward into the room when Ellen grabbed his arm.

"Hang on Sam!" She whispered fiercely. "Something ain't right. How come he's not using his mind to hold you down like he did before?" Sam's eyes widened. Ellen was right. The demon didn't seem able to restrain Jo with his psychic powers, having to resort to his physical body instead. Glancing around the room, he saw a Ouija board lying off to one side, as though it had been kicked away in the struggle. Scattered elsewhere around the room were several candles and a few old books that wouldn't have been out of place in Bobby's study. All of the candles were flickering madly, their flames an eerie white with green centers. Dean watched him examine the room, lip curled in an involuntary snarl.

"I don't think he can," Sam said slowly. "Jo must've done something to him, to keep him contained here." Sam inched back from the line of salt that stretched across the doorway, grateful that the door flying open hadn't dislodged it. Jo nodded slightly in response, then whimpered as the blade at her throat suddenly dipped down and over, slicing open the skin over her collarbone.

An instant later the knife was back at her throat, and Dean warned, "Come on, let's not start having civil communication, that's boring. I want to get to the screams. And even if I'm not at full strength yet, there are other ways we can have fun in here." He wrestled Jo across the room to her bed, black eyes glittering with evil anticipation. Tossing her down on the sheets he straddled her, easily pinning her arms over her head with one hand. Apparently, his super-strength was still intact. With his free hand he dragged the knife almost gently down the front of Jo's t-shirt, splitting the fabric and exposing the smooth flesh underneath.

Sam froze up. _No_, he though dazedly, _no there's no way he would do that, not here, not to her._ As if reading Sam's thoughts, Dean looked up from the struggling girl beneath him. "Why wouldn't I Sammy. She used to want this anyway, I'm just holding up my side of the bargain a little bit later than expected. The knife tip moved down to the waistband of Jo's jeans, and she whimpered. The look on Dean's face was purely predatory.

"Get your filthy hands off my daughter, you son of a bitch!" Ellen shrieked, bringing her loaded shotgun out from behind Sam's back. Before Dean could react she pounded him with two shells full of rock salt, literally blowing him away from Jo. As he smashed into the far wall and tumbled onto a pile of books, Jo scrambled towards the door, knocking over three of the candles as she did. Sam grabbed her arms and lifted her over the salt line as Dean came for them, raging. Ellen shot him with another round of rock salt just before Sam slammed the door, and the three of them backed into the hallway, watching with apprehension as the door shook and rattled. Jo clung to Sam, shaking all over, blood dripping onto her bra from the cuts on her neck.

"How did he get here?" Sam asked urgently, looking down at the younger hunter. "And how did you manage to trap him in there? Will it last?"

Jo shook her head, tears in her eyes. With an effort, she controlled her shaking enough to speak. "It's all my fault," she whispered. "It was stupid and I'm so sorry." As Sam and Ellen both stared, she took a deep breath. "I overheard you talking last night. I didn't want to believe that he was just some demon now, I couldn't. So… so I did a summoning spell, not one for demons just one for ghosts. That's why I had the Ouija board."

Ellen was staring at her daughter as if she had never seen her before, and Sam could see the emotions fighting for dominance on her face: anger that her daughter would be so stupid verses relief that she hadn't been killed. As Dean slammed into the door again, howling curses, relief won. She swept her daughter out of Sam's arms and into a hug. "Don't ever do that again, you understand?" She whispered fiercely.

"But I don't understand why he showed up, Dean isn't a ghost. And you would have needed something of his, something personal for the spell…" Sam trailed off as Jo silently dug in her pocket and held up a small gold amulet.

"I snuck it out of your pocket this morning at breakfast," she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. Sam snatched the necklace out of her hands, cradling it as though he didn't know if he wanted to put it back in his pocket or throw it away forever. When he didn't immediately lash out at her, Jo raised her head a little and continued. "He didn't come at first, when I did the summoning, and I assumed it was just because his spirit wasn't hanging around anymore. So I was cleaning up, and I erased the binding sigils before I blew out the candles, and-"

"And he slipped in through the cracks." Sam finished. One of the first things that John had taught his boys was the proper way to clean up after a failed ritual. If it wasn't done perfectly, there was the strong possibility that something uninvited would seize its chance to wreak havoc. In this case it was Dean, who had probably felt the summons but waited for his chance to catch Jo off guard. "How long will he be trapped there?" The pounding on the door suddenly ceased, and the three hunters stared nervously at the room, wondering what the demon was up to now.

"I don't know." Jo's eyes were wide, and she started to hyperventilate again. "Oh god. Oh god he's going to get out, and then he's going to come after us, and he's going to-"

"No," Sam cut in fiercely, shaking Jo's shoulders until she was forced to look at him. "No, he's not. I promise Jo, I won't let him touch you ever again, do you understand?" The girl nodded shakily, pulling her torn shirt around herself like armor. As he herded Jo and Ellen down the hall, Sam heard Dean whisper through the crack in the doorframe in a voice meant for Sam's ears only.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, little brother."

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PS- Cas soon! eheheheheh...


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